Page 33

EIGHTEEN

AUDREY

“Are we there yet?” I adjust the silky blindfold Reign insisted I wear after we left his cabin this morning. “You know I hate surprises.”

Reign’s low chuckle vibrates through the interior of his truck. “Patience, Princess. We’re almost there.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago. And ten minutes before that.”

He gives my thigh a gentle squeeze. “This time I mean it. Five more minutes.”

I huff dramatically. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“No hints, baby. Just trust me.”

The car slows, turning onto what feels like a smoother road. My curiosity intensifies as we make several more turns before finally coming to a stop.

I hear his door open and close, then footsteps circling around to my side. The passenger door opens, and Reign’s hands are warm and sure as they help me out of the vehicle.

“Careful,” he murmurs, guiding me forward. “Three steps up.”

I navigate the steps carefully, thankful for his solid presence behind me. The air smells different here. It’s cleaner somehow, with a hint of aviation fuel.

“Reign, where are we?” My voice drops to a whisper as I hear voices in the distance, the sound of engines.

His fingers work at the knot of my blindfold. “See for yourself.”

The silk falls away, and I blink against the sudden brightness. We’re standing at the entrance to a private jet terminal, sleek aircraft visible through floor-to-ceiling windows.

I turn to him, confusion written across my face. “I don’t understand.”

Reign’s expression is uncharacteristically nervous. “Remember that art competition you mentioned? The one in San Diego?”

My heart skips a beat. “What about it?”

“You won.”

My mind spins, trying to process what he’s telling me. “But I never submitted anything. I threw away the application.”

“I found it in your studio trash.” He takes my hand in his. “I filled out a new one. Had the painting shipped before the deadline.”

“You did all that? Without telling me?”

“I had to.” His hand finds mine, thumb rubbing circles against my palm. “You’re too talented to hide, Audrey. The world deserves to see what you create.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

“I really won?” The reality of what he’s saying finally sinks in. “First place?”

A smile breaks across Reign’s face, genuine and proud.

“First place. The judges were unanimous. You beat over three hundred other artists. The awards ceremony is in San Diego tomorrow night. I RSVP’d for the both of us.”

I press my hand to my mouth, tears flowing freely now. “Oh my gosh, Reign. I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll get on the plane.” His hand cups my cheek. “Say you’ll let yourself have this.”

I look from him to the waiting jet and back again.

“Yes,” I whisper, then more firmly, “Yes.”

A uniformed attendant appears at the foot of the jet’s stairs. “Mr. Mitchell? We’re ready for boarding whenever you are.”

Reign nods acknowledgment, then turns back to me. “Ready to go to San Diego, Princess?”

“With you? Anywhere.”

The interior of the jet steals my breath.

Buttery leather seats larger than first-class.

Polished wood tables. Plush carpet underfoot.

Everything speaks of luxury and exclusivity.

The attendant appears with two flutes of champagne on a silver tray.

“Please make yourselves comfortable. We’ll be taking off in approximately fifteen minutes. ”

I accept the champagne, the cool glass grounding me in this surreal moment. “You’ve thought of everything.”

“That’s my job.” Reign takes his own glass, his eyes never leaving mine. “Risk assessment. Contingency planning.”

“Is that what I am? A risk to be managed?” I tease, taking a sip of champagne that bubbles across my tongue.

His expression darkens, intensity replacing amusement. “You’re the only risk I’ve ever been willing to take without a backup plan.”

The door seals with a pressurized hiss, cocooning us in our private sanctuary. The attendant discreetly moves to the front cabin, leaving us alone in the main cabin. Reign settles into the seat across from mine, his large frame making even the spacious jet feel somehow smaller.

As we taxi toward the runway, I let myself absorb the reality of what’s happening.

In less than three hours, I’ll be in San Diego to accept my first ever art award.

And Reign will be by my side. The jet accelerates down the runway, pressing me back into my seat.

Reign’s eyes hold mine as we lift off and the ground falls away beneath us.

I giggle. “I can’t believe we’re going back to San Diego.”

“San Diego,” he says, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear. “Where it all began.”

“Where you ruined me for anyone else, you mean.”

Reign chuckles at my words. “I didn’t ruin you, Princess. I showed you who you really are.”

The truth of his statement settles in my chest. Before Reign, I was sleepwalking through my own life—going through the motions, playing the role assigned to me, never questioning the script. He didn’t change me; he awakened me.

“To San Diego,” I raise my glass in a toast. “And to being who we really are.”

“To San Diego.” He touches his glass to mine, the crystal singing between us. “And to thirty thousand feet of privacy.”

Heat floods my cheeks at the implication in his tone. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

His smile turns predatory. “Depends on what you’re thinking.”

I set my champagne down. “I’m thinking that I’ve never joined the mile-high club.”

The seatbelt sign dings off, and Reign is out of his seat in an instant. He growls. “That can be arranged.”

“Oh my gosh, this is heaven.” Violet sinks deeper into her pedicure chair, her eyes closed in bliss as the technician works on her feet. “Remind me to thank your mountain man. I haven’t been pampered like this in months.”

I smile, watching my friend surrender to luxury.

“Seriously, Audrey,” Iris adds from my other side, wiggling her toes as they’re painted a vibrant teal. “Reign is officially my favorite of all your boyfriends.”

I laugh, though the sound catches in my throat as I consider my current circumstances.

Here I am, in a luxury spa with my two best friends, being treated to massages, facials, and pedicures.

All compliments of Reign. Meanwhile, back in Cooper Heights, my fiancé is recovering in my family’s guest wing, and Lucille is accelerating wedding plans that I have no intention of following through on.

“It’s not like I have a long list of serious relationships to compare him to,” I say, watching as the technician applies a soft blush polish to my toes. “And technically, Reign isn’t my boyfriend.”

Iris snorts. “Please. The man flew you to San Diego on a private jet, booked you into the presidential suite of the fanciest hotel in the city, arranged this entire spa day, and is taking you to an award ceremony tonight where your art is being recognized. If that’s not boyfriend behavior, I don’t know what is. ”

“It’s more than boyfriend behavior.” Violet opens one eye to look at me. “It’s husband behavior.”

Husband. The word echoes in my mind, conjuring images so different from what I’ve pictured with Gio.

Not sterile corporate events and strategic appearances, but mornings in Reign’s cabin, sunlight streaming through windows as I paint, his arms around me in the kitchen, his voice rough with sleep. A life where I’m seen, not showcased.

“Earth to Audrey.” Iris waves her hand in front of my face. “Your expression just went all dreamy.”

I blink, returning to the present. “Sorry, I was just thinking...”

“About Reign as husband material?” Violet’s smile is knowing. “Because that look on your face says it all.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Actually, I’m thinking that I still can’t believe he entered me in that competition,” I say, desperate to change the subject. “I overthought it until the deadline almost passed.”

“That’s exactly why he did it,” Violet says wisely. “He sees you, girlie. The real you. The artist who’s been hiding for years.”

“And he believes in your talent,” Iris adds, her usual brash tone softening. “Which, for the record, we’ve been telling you about forever. You were always meant to create, not just exist as some corporate trophy wife.”

I blink back unexpected tears. “I know. It’s just complicated.”

“Only because you’re making it complicated,” Iris says. “The solution seems pretty simple to me. Dump Gio. Be with Mountain Man. Paint beautiful things. Live happily ever after.”

If only it were that simple. I think about the Worthington legacy, about my father’s company now intertwined with Vega Promotions, about Lucille’s carefully constructed plans. Walking away from all that means more than just changing my relationship status.

“My family—” I begin.

“Your family has been controlling your life for twenty-three years,” Violet interrupts gently. “At some point, you have to decide if you’re living for them or for yourself.”

The technician finishes my pedicure and moves away, giving us a moment of relative privacy. I lean closer to my friends, lowering my voice.

“Reign has some master plan,” I whisper, glancing around to make sure no one is listening. “He says he’s going to get me out of this mess.”

Violet and Iris exchange a look I can’t quite interpret.

“What?” I ask, suddenly paranoid. “What was that look?”

“Nothing,” Violet says too quickly, focusing intently on her freshly painted toes. “I’m sure Reign knows what he’s doing.”

“That wasn’t nothing,” I press, looking between them. “You two know something I don’t.”

Iris shrugs, avoiding my eyes. “We just think it’s interesting that he seems to have everything figured out.”

“What does that mean?” I lean closer, my voice barely audible over the spa’s ambient music.

Violet shoots Iris a glare before turning back to me.

“It means that you should trust the process. Reign clearly cares about you. He’ll figure it out. He’s got resources. Connections.”

“And biceps that could crush walnuts,” Iris adds with a smirk.